


A Blade on Hannibal's Smile

by minkit



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Blood, Knife Play, M/M, Masturbation, Self-Mutilation, Smut, Will really loves his scar, blood letting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-06
Updated: 2020-07-06
Packaged: 2021-03-04 19:28:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,080
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25101670
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/minkit/pseuds/minkit
Summary: The feel of his scar beneath his palm comforted him in a strange way, brought him back to a time where he could be himself.
Relationships: Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter, Will Graham/Molly
Comments: 8
Kudos: 98





	A Blade on Hannibal's Smile

Will let out a small breath. His muscles were tense as he glanced over at his sleeping wife. There was a stirring in his gut and he ran his hand down his chest, touching gently over his stomach, feeling the raised, scarred flesh beneath his fingertips.

He gave another quick look to his wife before he quietly slid out of the bed and into the bathroom, not bothering to turn on the light and instead chose to stare into the darkness as he looked in the direction of his own eyes in the mirror. One hand pressed to Hannibal’s smile, thick across his belly, the other sliding into his briefs, hissing as his cool hand pressed into the heated flesh of his already half-erect cock.

“Fuck,” he gave a small curse, turning to lean back against the counter as he shoved his briefs down around his ankles, resting his ass against the cool countertop. 

The feel of his scar beneath his palm comforted him in a strange way, brought him back to a time where he could be himself. Will let out a heavy breath and gripped himself harder, stroking his length until it was fully erect and throbbing in his hand. He tried to turn his thoughts to Molly, to his wife sleeping in their bed but quickly shook the image away and instead replaced it with that night, Hannibal stroking his face, knife in hand. 

Something about it made Will moan out, feeling pre-cum drip onto his fingers as he dug his heels into the rug in front of the sink. He swore beneath his breath, squeezing his hand into a fist over his stomach as he jerked himself even faster. Strange how the memory of the blade sliding into his flesh got him harder, throbbing and slick as he moved his hand rapidly over his cock. Then the image changed to that night they said goodbye, but instead of lying, telling Hannibal he would no longer think of him, he pulled the man into his bed and kissed him, as he had wanted to do for so long.

Will tilted his head back, swallowing down his moans as his stomach tightened. His shoulders were shaking and he was practically panting, harder than he had been in ages. He couldn’t hold himself back any longer and as he flattened his palm against Hannibal’s smile once more, he spilled himself into his palm, Hannibal’s name a whisper on his lips. 

-

The winter chill was thick in the air as Will breathed against his hands, forcing a smile onto his face as he waved goodbye to Molly and Walter. They would be gone a few days, on a trip to see Molly’s parents. Will was busy with some boats he had to fix up, getting ready for spring to hit. He also needed to watch the dogs. They were all excuses. He knew this in the back of his mind as his rusted toolbox almost seemed to wink at him from the corner of his eye as his wife and step-son pulled out of the driveway. 

As soon as the car was gone and the house was silent save for the soft blowing wind, Will let out a breath and slumped up against the side of his work bench, turning his head just a little bit to the right to stare at his toolbox where he knew it was waiting for him. 

He hadn’t any fucking idea what he had been doing when he had bought it. He hadn’t even really been thinking so much as feeling when he went into the shop to look at the blades, finding one in as close to size and shape as he possibly could, buying it without a word or even a moment to let himself ponder on what he was doing. He didn’t look at it or stop to think about it until he got home, going straight to the toolbox to drop it at the bottom, still wrapped in plastic and a bag, as if it was something that he didn’t really need.

But he felt like he needed it. He felt like he needed it every single night when he woke up from what he would call nightmares, yet his cock was throbbing and half-erect and screaming at him to touch, even if he had Molly had just rolled around in the sack a few hours previously, it wasn’t enough to stop the nightmare of Hannibal cutting into him and Will’s confusing bodily reaction to the memory and dull ache where the smiling scar now lived.

Some nights he would ignore it and go back to sleep. Some he would wake Molly and she’d giggle and while it wasn’t exactly what he wanted, it was enough to sate him for the time being. But other times he’d toss the blankets off of him and quickly go into the bathroom. He wouldn’t turn on the lights, too ashamed to stare at himself as he fisted his hand around his length and got himself off on the memory of being gutted. 

It wasn’t that it had felt good. It had fucking hurt. It’d been the worst physical pain in all of his life. It was more the knowledge that Hannibal had left this mark of ownership over him, and Will’s inward knowledge that he missed him.

He missed Hannibal. But wasn’t it normal to miss someone you love when they’re no longer around? 

With a sigh, Will pushed off his cap and ran his fingers through his curls before he walked over to the toolbox. He hesitated a moment, staring at the rust, running his fingers over it before flipping it up and digging to the bottom of the pile, pulling out a bag that had been there for weeks, sitting, waiting, almost calling to him. 

Without a second thought, he shut the toolbox and headed inside where the dogs were warm and snuggling up in the living room. He greeted them, making sure they all had food and water before he headed up to his and Molly’s bedroom and into the bathroom. It felt wrong to do it in the bedroom, his shared space with Molly. The bathroom was cleaner in a way, less personal. Almost as if he could shut this fucked up part of himself away and clean it up with bleach afterwards. 

He set the bag down on the counter and closed the door, hesitating for a moment before flipping the switch. This was more dangerous than just admiring his scar. Will didn’t need a slip up. 

After looking at his wary face in the mirror for a moment, he began removing his cold, somewhat damp from the snow clothes, kicking them off over into a corner. He would take care of them later. 

The scar was bright and smiling on his stomach, as it always did. Will stared at it, his finger trailing along the flesh and almost shivering as he heard Hannibal whisper into his ear, “I left you my mark so that you always remember me, Will. In a way, it’s sort of like a kiss--but with much more meaning.” It was what he would say, Will was sure, and the thought got him biting on his lip and opening the bag he had dumped on the countertop.

There were scissors in a drawer and for a moment, Will thought about how funny it was you needed a sharp object to open another sharp object, but then the hard plastic was off and tossed in the trash, and the curved blade glinted at him, looking as much like a smile as the scar on his stomach. 

The feel of it in his hand caused Will’s breath to hitch and with one finger he gently traced over the shiny metal, wincing as it sliced the tip of his left index finger. He stared at the drop of blood, the red filling his mind before he brought his fingertip to his scar, smearing the red stickiness against the raised flesh. He then looked in the mirror, his breath hitching and cock twitching between his legs.

It reminded him so much of that night as he gasped, arm wrapped around his stomach, trying to stop the bleeding as he lay dying, Abigail bleeding out next to him, and the knowledge that he had just made a mistake that he would regret always. And here he was, years later, still regretting.

He closed his eyes and turned away from the mirror to lean against the counter as he always did, the coolness sending a slight shiver up his spine. Will took in a breath and then reached down, fingers stroking along his length, knife clenched in the first of his other hand as he worked himself into arousal. 

Will could feel Hannibal’s breath against his neck, his ear, whispering things into his subconscious that he couldn’t really make out. But it didn’t matter. It did the job. Will tilted his head back, letting out a small groan, remembering the feeling of Hannibal’s hand caressing his face and then the feel of the blade sliding into his belly. It was hot, like fire, and he had never felt like that before. 

He let out a shaky breath and lifted the knife to his stomach, pressing the flat side of the blade against his skin. Perhaps he could get close to that feeling again.

“Fuck…” he cursed automatically at the feel of the blade. It was such a strange mix. The metal was cold, freezing almost from being in the toolbox for so long, but it created a burning sensation through his body and he rocked his hips forward into his hand, fingers tightening their grip around himself. His toes curled against the floor and he leaned more heavily against the sink, shaky breath after shaky breath being the only sound in the room except for his moans. 

“Hannibal…” he let himself moan out, even though Hannibal couldn’t hear the sound of his name falling for Will’s lips. Or perhaps he could, in his memory palace. Maybe Will could let him know that yes, he was still thinking about him, despite having said that he never would.

He flipped the blade just a bit, pressing it against his scar in the same direction Hannibal had when he’d sliced into him. The change automatically got Will feeling weaker, his head dizzy as he tried to steady himself. His cock throbbed almost painfully in his hand, his precum coating and helping Will jerk himself in the process.

Will pressed the knife a little harder against his belly, feeling his skin opening just a bit and he hissed, looking down where a streak of fresh red was appearing along the knife’s edge. He groaned and cursed again, staring as the blood oozed from him, slowly trailing down his stomach until it reached his hand on his cock, mixing with his precum. A part of him wondered how that would taste, and then he thought about how Hannibal would probably find it delicious. 

“Shit--” he cried out, moving his hand faster and more tightly around himself as the throbbing got almost painful. The knife dug a little deeper, reopening his smile to the point he knew he would need to bandage himself. He needed to stop before it went too far, before he’d have to go to the hospital. 

It was difficult, but he managed to drop the knife away from his feet and onto the floor, spreading his hand that had been holding it all across his belly until he painted himself red with his own blood. He imagined Hannibal on his knees, lapping him up and moaned out, tilting his head back. His legs spread a little as he reached down to cup his balls, giving them a careful squeeze as well. 

Will felt hot and shaky and he could smell the iron of blood in the air mixed with the scent of musk and sex and it was wonderful and Will couldn’t stop himself anymore. His body tightened and clenched and then he came over his hand, a sea of white and red swirling together in his palm.

He panted, staring down at the mess he made of himself, but he couldn’t bring himself to regret it. He couldn’t bring himself to regret any of it.

The only thing he did regret was not leaving with Hannibal in the first place.


End file.
